There is a fridge in the living room.

The fridge is uncommonly free from drawings, class schedules, scout schedules, theatre tickets, funny magnets, and other junk. I’m sure that it will immediately fill up again as soon as it moves back into the kitchen.

I flew to London for a concert. Which felt incredibly wasteful and decadent, but Dead Can Dance is one of a very few bands about which I have thought for years that one day I would want to see them perform live.

The concert was good but not excellent; the sound level of course ridiculous as ever (earplugs ftw). I’m glad I went to see and hear them, but I don’t feel any need to do it again.

I had several hours of free time before the concert. After I had picked up my tickets at the Hammersmith Apollo, I googled for “walks in Hammersmith”, remembering all the pleasant, well-planned and well-documented walks Eric and I used to do in London and elsewhere in the UK.

And the Internet delivered – or rather, the Inner London Ramblers did. Their web site described a nice-sounding circular walk in Hammersmith, of a very suitable length, passing almost exactly where I was. So I spent two hours rambling in Hammersmith, Barnes and Chiswick – along the Thames, the Leg o’ Mutton reservoir, Chiswick gardens and then small lanes in Hammersmith. It was utterly lovely and I realized just how much I sometimes miss London.

London has something that Stockholm doesn’t. Stockholm is tidy and well-ordered and straight; London is quirky and scruffy and full of character. It’s quirky in an unselfconscious way, without even trying. Much of it is due to age. London lets old things be, whereas Stockholm straightens them out and replaces and upgrades. London has little crooked lanes and rusty old iron fences and crumbling stone. Stockholm has straight cycle paths and

There are benefits to the Stockholm approach, of course: nearly everything in Stockholm is accessible for wheelchairs and pushchairs, for example, while London still marks specific Tube stations as accessible – and most aren’t. But as a visitor with two working legs and no pram to push, oh I do love London so much.

The kitchen remodeling is about to start for real – Anton the builder and his sidekick will start tearing out the old kitchen soon. We emptied out everything from the old kitchen today, moving the essentials into the living room and packing away everything else. Half the office/library is full of boxes.

All of us like having our feet up when we sit in the sofa. Sometimes we curl up with our legs on the sofa, sometimes we put our feet on the sofa table. Very rarely does anyone sit on the sofa like polite people do, with our feet on the floor.

It just isn’t comfortable! Maybe there’s something physiological and evolutionary behind this, or maybe it’s just me, but I really don’t like sitting with my feet far below me. Even on my desk chair, I often find myself with both legs curled up on the chair in some shape.

It was probably Fortnite. That’s the game that unites them: both like it a lot.

Or maybe all three of us were playing Minecraft together.

Ingrid’s new hair.

It’s going to take me a few days to get used to it – every time I see her, I get a little shock.

Cherry blossoms make me happy.

Stora mossen tube station is the halfway point of my bike commute, both literally and figuratively.

The first 7 km from Spånga to Stora mossen feels relaxing and suburban. Spångavägen and the outer parts of Drottningholmsvägen are lined first with detached houses and then with small apartment buildings. The bike paths are straight and wide and mostly empty.

The other 7 km from Stora mossen to the city begin with the traffic nexus at Alvik, with several traffic lights in a row and lots of cyclists queuing at each one, and then continues in the same vein: narrow bike lines shared with pedestrians, the Tranebergsbron bridge, and all kinds of other distractions.

I enjoy almost all of my bike commute (although Kungsgatan is a bit less nice) but it does feel nice to leave the city behind me on my way home and cruise along Spångavägen.

It’s spring, and we can dry the laundry outside in the sun and wind. (Adrian’s socks, in this case.)

Alexander Ekman’s Eskapist at the Opera was visually quite memorable.